


The Closet

by Taila_Tai



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek is a Failwolf, Kanimas, M/M, Scott is a potato
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 23:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5393489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taila_Tai/pseuds/Taila_Tai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So when he'd said he had plans that Friday night, Stiles didn't mean he'd planned for Derek to get paralyzed, for him to have to drag around a uselessly useless Alpha and then end the night with confessing something he'd rather had kept to himself. No, because you'd have to be a sick individual to plan a night where you're literally in the closet with one Derek H. Sourwolf. AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Closet

Jackson was a douche; everybody plus their aunty knew it. Hell, most people considered it common knowledge or maybe a fact of life.

But the thing was that Jackson – _Kanima Edition_ , was even more of a douche.

And that was why Stiles found himself dragging Derek’s deadweight ass out of the diving pool, two hours after their impromptu dip.

“You could try and help,” Stiles grunted, struggling to move backwards. “You know, instead of just laying there like the uselessly useless thing you are.” The ridiculous leather jacket was impossible to find purchase on, the rich material causing his fingers to slip and slide.

He heard Derek growl lowly, the sound echoing in the swimming area. “Have you failed to notice I’m paralysed?” he demanded, attempting to look over his shoulder.

Stiles wanted to let out a growl of his own, but knew it would be similar to a kitten threatening a pit-bull. “Have _you_ failed to notice your stupid ass has been paralysed for two freaking hours? Two hours in which I held said ass up in eight feet of water and the only thanks I’ve gotten so far has been a headache from your bitching,” he finished with a flourish, dropping the weight in his arms and smiling when the man grunted in pain.

“My bitching?” Derek demanded, red eyes glaring up into whiskey. “So you’re not only an idiot, but you’re deaf as well?”

Stiles spluttered, beginning to debate just leaving the wolf there. “I’m an idiot? I so should’ve dropped your sourwolf ass,” he muttered, looking over at the water and wondering if the option was still open. “Can a werewolf survive drowning?”

“Stiles,” Derek growled again, forcing the younger boy to look over with a small wince. “If you leave me here, or even think about putting me back in the water I’ll rip your throat out,” he paused for effect, narrowing green eyes. “With my teeth.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, reaching down to grab under the man’s armpits. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You have a fetish for teeth and... My neck apparently.”

“Stiles...”

“I’m moving you, I’m moving you,” Stiles relented, beginning his game of tug of war with gravity. “God, why do werewolves have to eat so much?”

Derek seemed deathly uncomfortable, his shoulders tensing despite his lack of movement. “Muscle weighs more than fat,” he grumbled instead, blinking when Stiles’ breath hit his cheeks.

Stiles, on the other hand, laughed breathily, continuing to tug impatiently. The heavy body was definitely pure muscle and weighed more than a freight train; but then again, Stiles had just held up said freight train in water for two hours so his arms were more or less jelly.

“I think my arms are about to fall off,” Stiles breathed, dragging Derek behind him and panting tiredly. It seemed the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, his body aching and shivering from the cold. “You need to stop working out. Then if this ever happens again in the future I can actually move you without losing limbs.”

“Stiles, shut up and get away from the pool.”

Stiles frowned, catching an unknown emotion in his voice. “Derek, I’m not going to push you in, so stop stressing out,” he commented casually, acting like the other man’s fear was normal. “God, I should call Scott and tell him to get his ass over here and... Oh.”

Derek struggled to turn his head, wondering why the teen had stopped speaking. He may complain whenever the boy opened his mouth, but the incessant rambling was helping him calm. “Stiles? What ‘oh?’”

Stiles gently set him down, his hands cradling his head so it wouldn’t hit the ground harshly. “I forgot about the inventions of cellphones,” he admitted quietly and if Derek didn’t have super hearing he probably would’ve had to ask the boy to repeat himself.

“I thought you already called Scott,” Derek asked, frowning as the tall shape moved in the corner of his vision. “Didn’t he hang up on you?”

Stiles waved his hand dismissively. “I did yeah, but you know, now that we’re not in mortal danger he’ll be free,” he spoke with heavy sarcasm, moving back to the older man’s side quickly.

As he sat next to the dark haired man, he stripped his jacket with his free hand rolling it up carefully. He dialled the number quickly before holding the phone between his shoulder and ear, using both hands to lift Derek’s head and place the balled up clothing underneath it to act as a pillow.

“Yo, Scott?”

Derek was able to see better now, and frowned over at the whiskey eyed boy, listening in on the conversation. _“Stiles, what? I thought I told you I was hanging out with Allison?”_

Stiles scoffed, turning to cock a brow at the alpha laying on the floor. “I also told you that Derek and I were in serious peril. But now, after two hours of holding him up in water it seems you’re available. How nice.”

_“What!?”_

Stiles chuckled again, moving to sit more comfortably. “I said, that while you were bitching about me calling during _Ally-time,_ I was holding Derek’s paralysed ass up in eight feet of water,” he said simply, picking at his nails. “And while it’s a nice ass, I can’t feel my arms.”

Derek cocked his brows. Nice ass?

 _“Shit Stiles, are you serious? The Kanima got you guys and you’re only telling us now?”_ Scott’s voice sounded angry and Stiles’ face dropped, becoming void of all expression. _“What the hell man? You’re human; you don’t stand a chance against that thing!”_

Derek swallowed thickly, deciding he’d rather see that stupid crooked grin on the teenager or even a frown. Anything was better than the statue sitting next to him.

“The only werewolf who even seemed willing to help me was paralysed and about to drown. Forgive me for not deciding that I had more than a few seconds to explain the situation,” Stiles said lamely, blinking lazily. “I had to drop him in said water just to call you and you blew me off.”

_“What? You didn’t make any sense when you called me!”_

Stiles sighed, and finally an emotion came over his features. Exasperation. “I made plenty of sense Scott, listen... Derek is still paralysed and I need help getting him somewhere safe—”

 _“I can’t Stiles; I need to find someone to help me dispose of the Kanima, because someone allowed our Alpha to get paralysed.”_ Scott said incredulously. _“See you later Stiles.”_

Stiles slowly drew his phone from his ear, staring down at the device as his hands shook violently. “He hung up on me,” he said quietly, frowning gently. The boy let out a tired sigh, sounding hundreds of years old instead of just seventeen. “I don’t know if the Kanima will come back,” he shrugged. “I need to get you somewhere safe.”

Derek nodded, watching the teenager worriedly. “Stiles, this isn’t your fault.”

He didn’t know why he said it, and when the boy disappeared behind him, he started to wish he hadn’t.

Warm arms encircled his upper body again, breath ticking his neck as he was slowly dragged; leaving water behind like a snail trail. “You don’t have to sugar coat anything Derek,” Stiles said flatly.

Derek chuckled humourlessly. “Do I look like Willy Wonka to you?” he demanded. “I’m not sugar coating anything. This isn’t your fault.”

Stiles sighed, causing warm breath to ghost along his collar bone. “Sure it isn’t,” he intoned. “I mean, the only reason you even got paralysed was because you turned your back on it to yell at me.” The arms tightened for a split second.

“Stiles,” Derek started again, frowning to himself. “I was the one stupid enough to turn my back on it. You were the one smart enough to throw me into a swimming pool and then the one loyal enough to dive in after.”

God, he was starting to sound human. _Too late to stop now..._

“Wolves favour loyalty,” he said simply, not sure if he was simply talking to fill the silence or to make Stiles smile again.

Stiles snorted. “Wolves favour their own.”

Derek growled, feeling the breath on his neck hitch. “You’re as much of a wolf as Scott is,” he decided firmly. “While he has the physical attributes you have the rest.”

“The rest?” Stiles questioned, looking around for the exit. This was going to take a while.

“Scott may look like a wolf, but Stiles, you act like one. I’ve never seen such loyalty in a human before,” Derek muttered, suddenly wondering why he even started this ridiculously touchy feely conversation. “You remain when others leave. You dive into the fray when I _know_ Scott would run away. You’re undeniably loyal, brave and warm.”

Derek noticed they’d stopped moving. “You’re the perfect pack member.”

Silence echoed behind him, and Derek felt nervous. Had he crossed a line? He hadn’t really spoken with someone he considered pack in a while, and was worried that he’d spoken out of turn. “Stiles..?”

“Thanks sourwolf,” Stiles whispered, slowly picking his upper half up again.

Derek realised how hard this must be for the teenager. Not only had he held up himself, but also a deadweight for two hours in freezing water only to be put down by his best friend and told he had to fix a mistake that wasn’t his. He didn’t think that was how the whole best friend or even friend thing worked but he could be wrong.

Derek knew he wasn’t going to get the answer inside his own mind, so hesitantly, he voiced the question. “Why are you so loyal to Scott? What has he done to deserve it from you?”

Stiles chuckled dryly. “What have you done to deserve it?”

Derek froze with the boy’s words, a cold feeling beginning in his chest. “What _have_ I done?”

He heard a creak before Stiles decided to answer him, a light flicking on behind him. “You earned my respect and therefore my loyalty the minute you offered to help my best friend,” Stiles explained, once again gently putting the man down after dragging him into what looked like an office. “Of course, every time I was thrown against a wall, said respect shifted more into fear...”

Derek scoffed as he heard a lock click into place, Stiles moving back again and studying the door. “Oh please,” Derek made a small noise in the back of his throat. “I’m a werewolf Stiles.”

“What do you want? A medal?”

“So, I have superior senses of hearing, sight... smell,” Derek grinned predatorily.

Stiles stiffened, turning a sharp frown on the dark haired man. “And I needed to know this why?” he questioned, moving to seat beside him again. “Can you lift your head?”

Derek nodded, struggling to move his neck. He lifted it enough so that Stiles could slip his jacket back under there, the wet fabric still better than the cold floor. “You need to know this because every time I threw you against the wall...”

Stiles lifted his brow, waiting patiently for him to continue before he paled, realisation painting his features. “Oh,” he choked out.

“Oh indeed,” Derek agreed, smiling to himself

Stiles refused to meet his eyes, looking at the door as though he could burn a hole in the thick metal and escape. “So you could smell... Uh...”

“Your arousal?” Derek questioned. “Yeah, yeah I could.”

Stiles swallowed, his throat moving. “And you never said anything? God, you Derek Hale are the Moon Moon of werewolves, I’ll have you know.”

Derek frowned deeply, attempting to move his arms. “What the hell is a Moon Moon?”

“How many moon moons could a moon moon moon if a moon moon could moon moons?” Stiles questioned quickly, his lips moving rapidly.

Derek growled, “Stiles you’re not making any sense and—Wait,” he narrowed his eyes suspiciously, licking his lips. “You’re trying to change the subject,” he accused.

Stiles jolted back, a gasp leaving his lips. “I am not!”

“Are too.”

“Moon moon say what?” Stiles questioned quickly.

“What?”

Stiles sniggered.

Derek, after needing a few more seconds to catch onto the ploy, snarled again, his fingers moving. Of course, he was trying to punch the teenager, but a finger wiggle was all he could manage. “I hate you.”

Stiles shook his head. “You do not, nobody hates the Stilinskinator.”

“I do.”

Stiles looked down on him with frown. “Well then, you’re just a sourwolf then ain’t yah?” He poked the older man’s nose, yelping when teeth snapped. “I forgot you could move your mouth,” he murmured before his eyes lit up. “Wait, how long will this last for?”

Derek frowned at the subject change, but tried to shrug before grimacing down at his body when it spasmed. “I don’t know... Seeing as I still can’t move, probably a while.” He knew it was a lie the minute he said it, his arms and legs were beginning to tingle painfully, feeling returning to cramped limbs.

“Do you think the Kanima is gone?”

Once again, Derek frowned at the question but answered nonetheless. “Long gone,” he answered truthfully this time. “So I have no clue why you’ve locked us in a closet.”

Stiles nodded to himself, his fingers inching across his thighs, tapping out a beat. “Safety precautions. Also, I kind of want the pack to freak out when they noticed we’re not here.”

“Cruel,” Derek noted, twitching his finger when the boy looked away. Movement was coming back slowly but surely. “I never took you for being cold hearted.”

_Keep him talking Derek..._

“I never took you for being gullible,” Stiles retorted with a smirk.

Gullible, what the hell did he mean by gullible? Derek hadn’t fallen for any of the younger mans pranks recently, last time he checked Stiles hadn’t exactly been...  _Shit._

“Sorry, would you rather we talk about the teenage hormones that assault my poor nose whenever I have you pressed up against something?” Derek asked, cocking a brow innocently at the now gaping boy. “Because I don’t mind the subject change.”

Stiles gave him a hard look. “You’re a prick.”

“And you’re a hornball,” Derek countered, turning so he was staring at the ceiling rather than the expressive golden eyes boring into his head. “But you don’t see me complaining.”

Stiles was obviously a little at loss for words, considering he was silent for the first time in a century. Resisting the urge to smile, Derek turned back to the boy, noticing he had closed his eyes and was sporting a frantic expression.  In the moment of blindness, Derek lifted his arms, making sure the limbs were in working order – they were it just... tickled when they moved, like a drug wearing off – before dropping them as Stiles’ eyes opened.

“You alright there?” Derek questioned. “Don’t give yourself an aneurism from thinking too hard.”

Stiles made a noise in his throat. “No I am not alright,” he snorted, turning an unsure look on the man before shrugging. “And at the moment I’d rather have an aneurism to be honest.”

Derek sighed. “Why?”

“So I’d at least out of reach when you’re able to move again.”

Now Derek was really confused. “What?”

“Because you are going to kill me for doing this,” Stiles continued.

“Doing wha—” Derek’s question was cut short by the feeling of soft, chapped lips hesitantly pressing against his own.

Stiles was kissing him.

 _Stiles_ was kissing _him._

He should probably start kissing back right about now though right?

Just as the command ran through his mind, Stiles started pulling back, no doubt ready to gush out multiple apologies and beg the older man not to rip his throat out with his teeth. _Nope._ Derek reached out, using his weak limbs to grab the boy and keep him firmly plastered against him, refusing to let him go just yet.

Something tightened his chest as he licked at the lips attached to his own, savouring the taste. He only let the boy pull back when the need for air became too much, making sure he couldn’t get too far and cradling him close.

“Kill you for doing what?” Derek breathed, smiling up at the boy. It felt strange, the genuine look of happiness but damn his angst – Stiles’ words not his – he was going to enjoy this.

Stiles swallowed, closing bright eyes and relaxing. “Well, that’s a load off my chest. I was not in the mood to plan a funeral,” he quipped before moving back with another large smile. “You, mister, said you couldn’t move.” He poked at a leather clad arm.

Derek shrugged. “I may have bended the truth a little, but I wanted the upper hand.”

“Wait, you knew I was going to kiss you?” Stiles demanded, one hand moving to rub at his lips. “How?”

“I didn’t _know,_ ” Derek rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. “If you didn’t do it, I would’ve eventually.”

The both fell into silence, Stiles contemplating what he’d heard and Derek panicking over what he’d just said. So much for keeping the attraction to himself. It was the golden eyes boy that spoke first, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Scott’s going to be annoyed, Isaac too I’d say,” he mused quietly, moving to drop his head on a muscled chest tiredly. “Not only are we hiding but we’re literally _in the closet_.”

That made Derek frown. “You’re worried what they might think about your... Sexual orientation?”

Stiles snorted, wiggling around and getting more comfortable. “Nah everybody knows gender means diddly squat to me. You, on the other hand...”

“My sexual orientation shouldn’t bother them,” Derek shrugged. “If the fact that you’re the one who changed it pisses them off they’re welcome to leave my pack.”

Stiles muffled his laughter into a wet Henley. “Really? _I’m screwing the human, don’t like it, then GTFO,”_ he mocked. “That’s going to go down well, I can see it now.”

Derek lifted a weak hand to smack the back of the boy’s head, smirking at the smothered yelp. “Don’t be smart,” he scolded before cocking a brow. “And what’s this about screwing?” he questioned before another thought made him falter. “And what the hell is a GTFO?”

“Get the fuck out,” Stiles quoted before looking up, his chin resting on a slim stomach. “And I said, _I’m screwing the human,_ ” he repeated with a broad grin. “Problem?”

Derek narrowed his eyes. “No problem,” he said evenly. “But can we wait until I have feeling back in my limbs? Also a closet is a bit cliché.”

Stiles jerked back. “Wait, you actually want to screw the human?”

“No, I just kissed him and allowed him to lay on me because hey, what are friends for?” Derek said sarcastically.

“Prick.”

“Hornball.”

Stiles pointed a finger threateningly at the wolf. “You can’t use that one, because last time I checked you don’t have me pressed against anything,” he warned playfully. His finger dropped as a bang echoed outside, drawing his attention with a worried frown. “What the hell wa—”

Derek had him pinned before he even noticed the man had moved.

Stiles wiggled experimentally, concern for the noise long gone. “Well, _Lightening McQueen,_ I take it you have your limbs in working order once again?”

A low growl bubbled in Derek’s throat. “It would appear so – Hornball.”

Snorting, Stiles looked to his side, trying to see the door he was held against. “I’m going to ignore that comment for now, and instead ask if you can hear anything out there,” he whispered, brow furrowing as he looked back to his alpha.

Derek leant closer, cocking his head and ignoring the small hitch in Stiles’ heartbeat. There was something out there, something scuffling around... But it wasn’t the Kanima and it was _not_ one of his wolves. “I don’t know, maybe an animal got in?” he muttered back, continuing to listen before sniffing experimentally.

A musty smell hit his nose before another hit him full force, stirring his wolf. He turned a growl on Stiles. “I’m trying to concentrate here, keep it in your pants,” he hissed before listening again, shaking his head. “Teenagers.”

“Sourwolves,” Stiles sighed in retaliation.

And apparently his voice was a little too loud, because a menacing growl echoed from the other side of the door. “Shit,” Derek cursed, moving Stiles away while frowning. _Damn, I had him just where I wanted him_. “Stiles, stay behind me. No playing hero this time okay?”

No argument came, just a small nod and a slim hand clutching onto his jacket.

“Derek?”

Stiles frantically started moving, double checking that the lock was in fact in place before rushing to Derek and placing a hand over his mouth. One finger pressed against his lips, a small smile growing underneath the plea for silence. Derek could only roll his eyes and agree.

“Derek, shit where are you man?”

Oh, maybe it _was_ his wolves.

Another voice joined in, almost sounding like they were close to tears. “Scott, where is he? I thought you said Stiles said they were here?”

Stiles winked, one golden eye disappearing under thick lashes. “I-I don’t know alright...” Scott was more than worried and judging by the little hop the boy did, Stiles was happy about it. “Stiles said... Wait, where the hell is Stiles? His jeep was out there...”

“You don’t think the Kanima... got them before we did?”

Scott’s breathing was loud, laboured. “I don’t know.”

Derek tugged himself free of the hand against his lip, opting to speak up. He could smell his packs fear and worry and it made his wolf pant and whine inside his mind. Just as his mouth opened to call out another pressure that _definitely_ wasn’t a hand stopped him.

“Shit, man, I can smell them but the water muffles it,” Isaac whined, and the sound of feet stomping got past the mental cheering in Derek’s head.

_Screw ‘em_

He wrapped his arms around Stiles, leaning further into the kiss and completely blocking out the people outside the door. He smothered the whimper that Stiles let out, growling into the teen’s now willing lips when a hand tugged on his short hair.

“Shit, Scott man did you hear that?”

Derek stilled, but his grip tightened, eyes darting to the door. Bad time to interrupt... Bad time to interrupt... Bad time to—

“Guys, are you there? It’s me! Uh, Isaac, you know?”

Derek pressed the boy closer, narrowing his reddening eyes and waiting for the others outside to get the hint. He could smell Stiles confusion and ran a hand over his back to sooth him, the action completely second nature. “I don’t think they’re in there dude, let’s look around. Stiles probably locked them both in a room and fell asleep.”

Stiles tensed at the accusation, tugging on dark strands again in annoyance. Derek made a small noise, ducking his nose into the warm neck before him.

“They’re gone,” he announced, listening to the footsteps fade. “They’re walking to the office areas... Probably think you holed us up there instead of here.”

Stiles snorted, wrinkling his nose at the ticking breath dancing across his neck. “Why would I go all the way over there?” he questioned, resting his head on the broad shoulder under him. “It’s so _far_ and I was exactly dragging a bag of feathers.”

“No, you were dragging a bag of pure muscle,” Derek countered, nuzzling the creamy neck he was safely tucked away in. Stiles smelt so _good..._

He heard Stiles gasp lightly, his chin tilting. “I know! And muscle ain’t exactly light, especially with the amount you’re hefting around.”

Derek grunted, not really caring for the argument anymore. He nipped at the warm skin, relishing in the squirming and breathless noises his captive let out. Biting down once, hard, he soothed the wound before pulling back, admiring the small _possessive_ mark.

“We should leave...”

Stiles looked flushed, one hand clamping down on the mark on his neck. “Can we sneak out? Leave them looking for a while longer?” he questioned, shaking his head in amusement when Derek tugged his hand down to reveal the marking. “Cause they kind of deserve it.”

Derek nodded, grabbing the boy’s hand and moving closer to the door. “Shut up and stay behind me.”

* * *

“You were there the entire time?” Scott demanded with a frown, folding his arms in what he thought was a threatening gesture.

Stiles nodded blankly, focusing on the textbook on his lap. “Entire time.”

Scott threw his arms up. “You’re an asshole, you know that? Isaac and I looked for you for hours!” he complained loudly, gesturing to the boy in confusion.

“And I had sex with Derek for hours.”

Scott blanched; he can’t have heard that right. _“What?”_

“What?”


End file.
